


tonight i'm drowning

by thewayyoosmile



Category: NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: First Time, Getting Together, M/M, Pining, Porn with Feelings, all exactly in that order, set in a canon verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:29:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29429580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewayyoosmile/pseuds/thewayyoosmile
Summary: He left him with a single “let me think about it, okay?” and nothing else.
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten
Comments: 25
Kudos: 106





	tonight i'm drowning

It’s past midnight in California. Taeyong absentmindedly looks around the spacious room, occupied by SuperM and staff members, gathered in an impromptu small party to celebrate another successful concert and the start of the final part of the tour. He’s been nursing his glass of wine for an hour now, lounging in a corner of the room. Taeyong doesn’t avoid anybody but doesn’t actively seek company either. His detachment must be a rather transparent sign for anyone not to drag him into a conversation. 

In his apathy Taeyong stumbles upon a familiar figure, who is unsurprisingly chatting lively with Taemin. Taeyong is not fast enough to look away, catching his eyes across the room, shining and alluring, looking straight at him. It’s only for a second but it effectively shatters the aloof composure he’s been trying so hard to maintain since the end of the show. 

Taeyong barely restrains himself from rubbing his temples that start to throb uncomfortably with an oncoming headache. The fatigue from a long flight and a concert starts to catch up with him. He places his glass down and steps out to get some air, afraid if he stays a bit longer looking into those eyes, he might do something stupid. 

San Diego night is pleasantly chill against his heated skin. The distant sound of the city is soothing. Taeyong breathes through his nose deeply, struggling to settle his nerves, calming his longing heart, that earns for a fraction of affection, that is returned willingly, undoubtedly, without pretence and deceit. 

Standing alone on the balcony, Taeyong thinks back to two months ago when his inability to hold himself in check led him to this agonizing state of uncertainty. 

When the news about SuperM first broke, Taeyong was understandably doubtful, even cautious, but at the same time quietly elated. He could admit, at least to himself, that the main reason was a certain thai boy. After working side by side for so long, he felt Ten’s absence acutely, felt robbed of his presence, their closeness. He missed Ten’s sunny smiles, his soft-spoken words, his peals of laughter. He missed Ten. Plain and simple. 

Taeyong foolishly hoped that it wouldn’t take them long to fall back in stride, like the months of being apart didn’t happen; that he could get back their playful banter, late-night talks about anything and everything. Taeyong yearned for that special connection, which people around them called with an all-encompassing but very precise word – “chemistry”. 

But something changed. It was almost imperceptible. Taeyong couldn’t put a finger on it at first, struggling to figure out what was setting him off. Ten still was just as radiant. He smiled at Taeyong as warmly as before, talked to him as attentively as before. Yet he seemed unreachable, withdrawn. 

Taeyong didn’t know where the guarded look was coming from, what he did to deserve such a restrained demeanour. 

It didn’t stop Taeyong from reaching out, like a flower reaching for a light, in hope of a little warmth from his personal sun. His eyes would go wide and pleading when looking at Ten, hands would brush accidentally against him, asking, searching. For what – Taeyong wasn’t sure. But it wasn’t a polite sympathy that Ten was giving him. 

And when Taeyong thought he should get used to this new dynamic, Ten started to thaw bit by bit. He would relax enough to lean tiredly on Taeyong when exhausted, to ask him to buy his favourite coffee and sweets, like they used to when working together. He would admit, late at night and quiet, that starting again with a new group for a foreign country was harder than he showed, that he is more nervous about upcoming debut with seniors than he let on. 

And Taeyong couldn’t be happier that he finally got his sweet sunny boy back. He would always find time to listen, to talk, to sit silently, shoulder to shoulder. Taeyong thought maybe Ten needed just a small push, a reassurance that he’d always have a special place in Taeyong life, in his heart. That Taeyong would give him his time, his space, his affection and so much more, whatever Ten could ever ask. 

In the preparations and a whirlpool of busy schedules, Taeyong almost forgot how charmed he had been with Ten, how infatuated. This time maybe even more so. Ten had certainly matured. The underlined confidence in his movements, his attitude was new but not unwelcomed. But it was his spark, his glowing radiant brightness that hadn’t changed, that still left Taeyong breathless. 

It all came crashing down on him during the tour. Their shared stages only managed to stoke the coals of his affection into a full-blown unnamed emotion, brimming with desire and adoration. Taeyong knew it spilt from him in ripples, through heated looks and lingering touches, tangled heavily in lust. Used to being honest with himself, Taeyong admitted that he wanted Ten like he never wanted anyone before. It didn’t matter anymore that Ten was a guy, that he was his group member, that he was his friend. Taeyong ached for him, that all the lines and restrictions stopped counting. Not when Taeyong dreamed about him. Not when he could see the returned delighted look, the wide brilliant smile that brought out the loveliest dimples. 

It’s like he could feel Ten, on the most primal level, that made their hearts beat with the same rhythm. That’s why after the concert, in a dark corridor leading from the stage, high on adrenaline, bold and enraptured, Taeyong found it in himself to looked into beloved face, to finally kiss Ten’s smiling mouth. 

Only for his heart to crack when Ten pulled back, expression suddenly serious. Taeyong held his breath while Ten looked at him, eyes fleeting across his face. He prayed that Ten would find an answer he was seeking. But he left him with a single “let me think about it, okay?” and nothing else. After, Taeyong told himself a hundred times that it was the right decision on Ten’s part, the rational and mature one. But it didn’t lessen the painful, miserable tremble in his chest. 

Ten didn’t distance himself completely, not that there were many chances for a meeting after. But his gaze would turn contemplative and far away. Ten was thoughtful to the point of forgetfulness, and Taeyong would love to think that he was the reason. That he was not the only one feeling like there was a vital part of him missing. 

So Taeyong threw himself into work instead, finding solace in his music, in stage, in his members and fans, until his emotions were almost snapping from a constant whiplash, until his body was numb with tiredness. 

Longing came and went in waves. Some nights were easy. Some nights Taeyong was drowning in the darkness of his room. He was lying awake for hours, sorting through his memories, the things he’s done and shouldn’t have done, cursing himself, his stupid heart, all the circumstances that led to this. 

That was two months ago. Two months of uncertainty and wishful thinking. Taeyong couldn’t say that Ten was avoiding him. They all were beyond busy. But still, the treacherous thought that if Ten wanted he would have found time didn’t leave him. But at the same time, he understood that he was the one who crossed the line, and the least he could give in return is courtesy of time for deliberation. 

That’s why Taeyong was sulking the past weeks and preferred to drown himself in his misery tonight than to seek company. 

‧ ◦ • ♡ • ◦ ‧

His mind stutters to a halt when he feels a small palm wrapping itself around his wrist. Taeyong turns around to look into the eyes that haunt his every night. All the words, that Taeyong imagined he could say, get suddenly stuck in his throat now that they are here. 

“Hey, I was looking for you,” Ten’s voice is soft, his charming accent is more prominent this late at night. “Come with me.” 

Ten doesn’t wait for a reply, just takes him by the hand and tugs Taeyong with him through the balcony doors and away from the party. Taeyong follows him blindly, letting himself be guided, having no strength left to resist Ten. He only catches himself when the door to Ten’s suite closes behind them with a click. 

He doesn’t have time to gather his thoughts and question Ten’s motives when Ten turns around and kisses him. Taeyong can’t help but freeze, mind locking up in disbelief. But Ten’s mouth is soft against his, just a light press of lips, those lips that Taeyong fantasied about kissing so many times. It takes only a second for him to fall, for his blood to run faster, for his hands to come up to tug Ten closer. 

Somewhere in the backseat of his mind Taeyong knows that he shouldn’t, that champagne on Ten’s tongue speaks louder than Ten himself. But he’s weak for him, always has been. He would willing cut open his chest and take out his still-beating heart happens Ten asks for it. So, he moves closer, helpless not to, when Ten’s luscious mouth opens so sweetly for him, when he lets Taeyong in with a quiet moan, that Taeyong can feel on his tongue. 

He cups his face and chases his lips, not realizing that Ten walks them backwards until his knees hit the bed and they fall together. They land on the bed with a hushed exhale, snuggled abruptly and intimately from chest to hips. Ten laughs breathlessly under him, threading his fingers through Taeyong’s hair. 

The dim light of the bedside lamp is enough for Taeyong to see him clearly. Ten’s eyes are bright, bewitching, looking into his very soul, and Taeyong is drunk and sick with love. He doesn’t know what’s the truth and what is just his wishful thinking. He feels splayed open, stripped bare to his core. All his thoughts and emotions are there for Ten to pick and examine their worth. He’s drowning in those eyes willingly, throwing away his sanity like a dying man his lifeline. 

Even so, Taeyong leans in and kisses him again and again, like he can’t seem to stop now that he has permission to. He kisses Ten hungrily, desperately, afraid that it’s only for tonight, that he can have him, that he can indulge in this fantasy. He kisses Ten like it’s his last night on earth, like there is no tomorrow when he will inevitably have to wake up from this fever dream. 

Still, Taeyong slows down, gentles his vigour under Ten’s delicate guiding, utterly enamoured by the faint taste of coconut chapstick. He pulls back to look at him, to commit to memory the vision of Ten’s puffy red-kissed lips and unfocused eyes, to unabashedly count all the moles on his face. Taeyong’s stomach twists with arousal at the pure sight of him. Emboldened he slips his hand under Ten’s shirt, amazed and unbelieving, that here and now he’s allowed to look, to touch. But then Ten arches against him and suddenly everything is too much and not enough. 

There is nothing of the girl’s usual curves or softness. Ten’s body is firm against him. He keeps squirming under Taeyong’s weight, hard cock rubbing against Taeyong’s own, driving him insane with want. It doesn’t deter Taeyong from sitting up to slide now both his hands up Ten’s sides, hitching his shirt higher. 

Taeyong runs his palms lightly over the exposed skin, caresses the smooth planes of Ten’s belly, skimming his fingertips up and up, until he traces the lines of the new tattoo. The ink looks dark, fresh. Taeyong remembers all air leaving him at once when he saw Ten changing costume backstage, the tattoos on full display across his body. It certainly looks healed but must have hurt like hell. It makes Taeyong want to soothe the pain, both new and old. He leans in, pressing his lips to the edge of the scar in a lingering kiss, feeling Ten’s surprised inhale with his mouth. Taeyong looks up at that, searching Ten’s eyes again, gathering what’s left of his willpower in his last attempt to be the responsible one. 

There is must be something in his face, blazing and desperate, that has Ten sitting up, expression suddenly serious. Taeyong feels a nauseating sense of déja-vu and takes his hands off of him, ready to get off the bed. 

But Ten grabs him by the arms, stopping him from moving away. He ducks his head, trying to catch Taeyong’s gaze, before kissing him, chaste and lingering, freezing like that for an endless moment, and then slowly breaking the kiss, just to lean his forehead against Taeyong’s. 

Still reeling from the kiss, Taeyong can only exhale shakingly, knowing with a calm finality of a doomed man that he’s screwed. Because that one innocent kiss means infinitely more than a kiss should be capable of. It’s too vast for words but perfectly felt through the lightest of touches.

Is it the answer he is looking for? Taeyong doesn’t know and he doesn’t dare to ask, afraid the minute he opens his mouth, it will ruin the illusion they’ve built. 

This time it’s Ten who reaches for Taeyong’s clothes first. Dutifully raising his hands, Taeyong lets him tug his shirt up and over his head. It pools on the floor next to the bed, followed by Ten’s own. Then Ten takes something out of the pocket of his jeans, throwing the tube on the bed, and unbuckles his belt. 

“You’ve planned this,” Taeyong voice comes out scratchy and low. It sounds rough in a room that was quiet until now. Taeyong stares numbly at the lube and doesn’t know if he should feel betrayed or flattered. 

“I... well, guilty,” Ten stops undressing and shrugs, corners of his mouth curved in an impish unapologetic smile. 

“Why–” Taeyong halts, not sure where to begin. The questions swarm aimlessly in his head, never making its way off his tongue. Why Ten treats this so lightly? Why haven’t they talked first? And most importantly, why here and now? After two months of radio silence, after speaking less than ten words to each other today, after their forced soulless performance. Knowing all that Ten still decided to go with his plan. Taeyong is just confused more than anything. 

“I thought, it would be easier this way,” Ten says unsure. He clearly expected another reaction from Taeyong. 

Ten’s teeth nibble at his bottom lip, his eyes are open wide, dark hair in disarray. And Taeyong drowns in a crushing tenderness. He reaches to tuck a stray lock behind Ten’s ear, thumb brushing gently over a cheek, faintly dusted with a rosy blush. 

“Are we okay?” Ten asks, closing his eyes. Taeyong nearly misses it, enthralled by the way Ten tilts his head in his palm, almost nuzzling into it, like a big affectionate cat. 

“We are okay,” Taeyong smiles and nods at him decisively. 

If weeks of contemplation led Ten to this choice, to another nameless city, to another generic hotel room, to tipsy and uncertain, to brazen and convenient... Then, Taeyong will take it. Even if he wouldn’t mind the shy and awkward, the nervous and awaited of the usual first time. 

Taeyong shakes his head and leaves those thoughts behind. He winds his hands around Ten’s waist, pulling him closer, kissing his parted lips. Ten responds hesitantly, but Taeyong doesn’t let his doubts sink in. He slides his tongue in Ten’s mouth with reverence, kissing him like a devoted man before an altar, pouring all his sincerity, his hunger, his heartache, till they are dazed and breathless. His hands slide lower, fingers drawing asking circles against the waistband of Ten’s jeans. In response Ten props himself on his elbows and raises his hips. 

Taeyong has seen Ten naked before but never like this. With his skin flushed warm, with his breath coming in short puffs, with his cock, hard and curving towards his stomach. And certainly never allowed to let his eyes linger shamelessly. So preoccupied with ogling Ten, Taeyong forgets to be self-conscious taking his own clothes off. He crawls closer between Ten’s open legs when Ten spreads them wide and inviting, face laced with amusement and eyes curving catlike at Taeyong’s obvious fascination. 

Taeyong keeps his touch light, taking his time to marvel at all that sun-kissed silky skin, learning that it’s as soft as it looks. Taeyong slides his palms up Ten’s toned legs, from the lean calves all the way to his strong thighs, feeling fine hair and the shift of muscles under his fingertips. 

And Taeyong’s hands are shaking. He suffocates under onslaught on his senses. There are so many details in Ten, big and small. It’s the way he arches when Taeyong runs his fingers across his chest, the way his thighs tense when Taeyong presses closer. It’s the way Ten’s mouth, bitten red and lush, drops open around a soundless moan, long thick lashes flutter shut, when Taeyong wraps his hand around his cock. 

For a short blissful moment Taeyong’s whole world is full of Ten – the sweet scent of his lotion, the sound of his panting little whines, the feel of his warm skin, the sensual, glorious sight of him. 

The answering touch is startling. Pulling back, Taeyong sees the same burning want, mirrored in Ten’s face as he strokes his hands and roams his eyes over Taeyong’s body in return. Grinning wickedly, Ten takes Taeyong's palm and wraps his lips around the fingers, twirling his tongue and hollowing his cheeks to suck them deeper. Taeyong thinks he can come just from those lips, sinful and shiny, just from the eyes, that watch his reaction with a smirk. With a final firm lick across the pads of his fingers, Ten takes them out from his mouth and guides his hand down to press between his legs until Taeyong gets the message.

Taeyong’s breath stutters in his chest with how hot Ten feels inside, how tightly he grips his fingers every time Taeyong pushes them slowly in and out. He has to brace himself against the bed, motions halting, when he feels Ten’s slick fist curling tightly around him. Taeyong’s mouth drops open, hips flexing as Ten pumps his cock at a steady pace, thoroughly coating it with lube. He has been so transfixed by Ten, that his own growing arousal hasn’t even registered up until now – when every flick of Ten’s wrist sets his nerves on fire. 

Taeyong pulls his fingers out and stills Ten’s hand, before it ends too soon. He crowds closer between Ten’s spread thighs, taking a couple of steadying breaths, before pushing in, slowing bottoming out. Ten throws his head back and drops onto the bed. He sighs, shaking and quiet, canting his hips to make it easier, knowing exactly how to move. He takes him so good, like Taeyong isn’t falling apart above him. 

Jealousy, momentary and scalding, flares in his chest. Taeyong wants to ask how many times Ten’s done it before but knows with clarity that he has no right. Still, he selfishly hopes to make it good, to give as much pleasure as he can, to make Ten forget all his previous lovers, even if it’s only for tonight. 

Taeyong wants to see Ten’s face distort in bliss, wants to hear him moan, loud and uncontrollable, wants to feel him come undone. 

So Taeyong moves with a single-minded focus, leaning down ever so often to kiss him, hands restless and eager on Ten’s body, rubbing, squeezing, holding. Ten still tastes like liquor and Taeyong hates that taste on him, but he can’t stop himself from licking his way into Ten’s mouth, from catching his whiny gasps with his lips. 

It’s easy after that. Somehow, they recognize on a subconscious level the way the other moves, after getting attuned to each other, learning, watching and sharing a hundred stages together. It’s easy when pleasure finally takes over consciousness. Taeyong keeps moving, sliding in and out with deep thorough thrusts, tugging Ten closer and closer, until Ten’s cock jerks, leaking all over his stomach with every forward roll of his hips. 

Taeyong clasps his hands around his waist, holding Ten in place, slamming himself harder, filling Ten again and again, faster and faster, until Ten’s moans turn high-pitches and keening. He arches his spine, painting his belly with white streaks of come. Taeyong feels him clenching, pulsing all around him, squeezing him tighter. Muscles straining, Taeyong pushes himself in as deep as he can, taking in Ten’s fervent stare. The words unbidden claw their way inside his throat, the desperate chanting of “I love you, I love you, I love so fucking much”. But Taeyong grits his teeth as he comes with a shudder, closing his eyes and muffling his groan in Ten’s chest.

Taeyong settles against him, not ready to break the embrace just yet. He listens to Ten’s breath gradually evening out, heart calming down, as Ten combs his fingers deftly through his hair. Taeyong doesn’t know what he should do now or say, but it seems he doesn’t have to. Ten nudges him in the side, snickering at Taeyong’s disgruntled whine. 

“Give me a second,” Ten says before disappearing in the bathroom. 

Taeyong sighs and rolls over across the rumpled covers. He closes his tired eyes but his mind keeps running in circles through today’s events. Should he get up and get dressed, and then spend the rest of the night in his cold bed, tossing and turning and wringing his brain with what if’s. Should they go back to the artificial friendly decorum, that will feel even more frigid and painful. Now that Taeyong knows how warm Ten can be, how sensual and responsive he is. How Ten’s eyes can turn so tender, his touch – so very loving. 

“I can hear you thinking all the way from the bathroom,” Ten says with a light smile. He comes into the room already wearing a bathrobe. “You can stay the night.” 

Taeyong takes the towel that Ten hands over, carelessly running it down his chest before dropping it on his lap. He looks at Ten’s half-smile and suddenly feels so very tired of the constant ambiguity. Taeyong wants to resolve their unspoken indecision, wants an answer, even if it means picking up the pieces of his broken heart and leaving. 

“Does it mean that it wasn’t a one-time thing?” Taeyong asks directly. 

“If you wake up and still want it tomorrow,” Ten shrugs, aiming for nonchalance and failing miserably when he meets Taeyong’s eyes. Ten closes his mouth and swallows, restlessly shifting his weight from one foot to another under Taeyong’s stare. And Taeyong... 

Taeyong finally understands the simple truth behind Ten’s elaborate actions. He shakes his head; he should have known, should have guessed. Ten, his brilliant beautiful Ten, wanted to give him the gracious excuse of feigning ignorance in the morning after. He was ready to give Taeyong a reason to blame it all on the liquor, on a cold night in a foreign city. Be it a fling or loneliness – no explanation needed. Even if both of them would have known, that they were not drunk enough to not be responsible for their actions, to forget it ever happened. 

“I want. Ten–” Taeyong stands, walking closer and waits until Ten raises his head to properly look at him again. He speaks with all the honesty he can muster, willing Ten to believe, “It’s not just sex for me. It never has been.” 

“Oh,” Ten blinks rapidly and exhales like he’s been holding his breath all this time. “Alright. Okay. Thank fuck.” 

It makes Taeyong laugh, low and happy, his chest feels lighter with the obvious relief in Ten’s eyes. He wraps his hands around Ten and kisses his temple, enveloping him in a hug, with no intention to let go anytime soon. They stay like that for a moment, holding onto each other, trying to reconnect with the fact that they are finally on the same page again. 

“I tried so hard not to fall for you again. Tonight... It’s not a new development for me. Wasn’t even when you kissed me in New York.” Ten’s muffled voice washes over Taeyong in gentle waves as he speaks. “I’m not as brave as you are, hyung.” 

“I would rather say reckless, but sure.” He doesn’t ask about Ten’s slip of the tongue for now, about how long has it really been for him. “I wouldn’t have risked our friendship if it wasn’t serious for me too.” 

“Yeah, I realize it now. Took me some time to figure it out. But I’ve never said I’m good at it.” 

“At what?” 

“Feelings. Relationships.” 

“We’ve already done the most irresponsible thing. We could at least give it a try.” Taeyong pulls back to look at him, ready to assure. But he doesn’t have to. Ten’s are eyes twinkling, nose scrunches adorably with how hard he smiles at Taeyong. 

“Can we do the irresponsible thing again? I’ve fully intended to take all from tonight.” 

“Thought we’re having a serious talk here.” Taeyong will be lying if he says that Ten’s adorably demanding tone doesn’t make his breath quicken. Especially when Ten’s hands start to wander lower. 

“You are still naked. It’s distracting. We can talk tomorrow. I think it’s my turn to lavish you with attention.” 

Ten looks at Taeyong through his lashes, drawing his lower lip between his teeth coyly, knowing exactly what it does to Taeyong. He is so lovely, stunning and truly irresistible, that Taeyong has no other choice that to lean in and kiss him, and then kiss him some more. Because now when he doesn’t have to hold himself back, Taeyong dives into this feeling readily and without hesitation.

**Author's Note:**

> apologies for a prolonged absence, my muse abandoned me, leaving me with a monkey behind the wheel. so here's some sad porn to make up for that.  
> also, shout out to people who still somehow find my works, read and reread 'em, like and leave heart-warming comments.


End file.
